Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode Three: Eggs #9

"Thank you for coming," Zeta said, her hair still wet from a shower. "You didn't need to."

Jack squirmed against the hard bench of the healer's waiting area. "Of course, it's no bother. No Maka?"

"He brought me here," she replied, her tone defensive. "Saw me into their care. He's got work."

"Of course," Jack repeated. "What happened?

Zeta just shrugged. "A minor health crisis. I got really shaky towards the end of the feast last night. I thought I was just tired. Woke in pain and messaged Maka. He brought me here."

Messaged Maka? So they didn't spend the night together. Jack stored that piece of information away. It made him feel better, even thought that was completely unfair, given his activity of the night before.

"My kidneys," she went on. "They have trouble sometimes with filtering two different kinds of biochemistry."

"This has happened before?"

"And will again, it's a fact of life for someone like me."

"A squid," he finished. "Still, I'm glad you are okay for now. You are okay?"

She nodded. "Yes, though I regret they want me to take the day off." She shot an offended look back at the healers, who ignored the conversation going on in their waiting room. "Say part of it was stress."

"Then by all means, you should take the day off. I think our never ending list of petty requests can wait one day," he joked. "Shall I walk you home?"

"Thank you, please."

The healers section was on sixteen above, the eastern workers court. It had informally picked up the name "Chaka court" for the number of Chappatie service businesses and the Chappatie word for "right away." In fact just across the court from where they stood, a Chappatie laundry was accepting a bundle of dirty clothes from someone with a cry of "chaka, chaka;" "right away."

They turned and headed towards Zeta's small apartment, towards the core. Jack chuckled.

"What?" Zeta inquired.

"I didn't have to ask where we were, or for directions," he explained. "Guess the lay out of the station is finally making sense."

She chuckled in turn. "I have the opposite problem, but I know what you mean. I've seen so many station. The layout is nearly identical on most. Until a station develops a certain individuality," she pointed a Starbucks stand. "A local flavor, I find it hard to find my way around."

The Starbucks stand had about half it's menu lined out. An unexpected twist of negotiations was that many of the common food additives used in processed foods were considered unsafe in the Consortium. It was one of the petty disputes that would likely take up the majority of Jack's day. He sighed, Maybe I should have a health crisis, too.

When he voiced this aloud, Zeta laughed. "It's not that much fun, I assure you." She pinked slightly. "Umm, do you mind if I stop and grab something to read. Since I'm supposed to be resting anyway."

"Sure," he replied. "Don't you read on your slate?" The slate had access to a huge public library of stories, far more than a person could read in one lifetime.

"These are collector plates," she said. "I'll just be a minute."

Jack nodded and inspected the store front, unsure what it was about this place that made her nervous or embarrassed. The label read Chiya-batu and the plates seem to be mostly cartoons of some sort. Maybe that was it, they seemed more aimed at children then an adult woman.

She was back moments later, two plate books clutched to her chest. "It's silly, I know. But it's a comfort for me. I've a collection."

They walked the rest of the way back to her apartment in silence. He repeated his assurance that they could handle things without her for one day and told her to get well soon.

Thanks for reading!